


three tin soldiers and a bottle of hope

by blueberrynewt



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Healing, War, and some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberrynewt/pseuds/blueberrynewt
Summary: things are hard. friends make it better.___just some plot-free hugh content for a birthday. no super specific PIC spoilers, but you may want to hold off if you're not caught up to s1e9 at least.
Relationships: Hugh | Third of Five & Elnor & Seven of Nine
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	three tin soldiers and a bottle of hope

**Author's Note:**

> hasty birthday present for a fellow hugh fan. this was supposed to just be fluff, but, well, i guess i can't help throwing in some angst. and hugh has so much cause for angst, poor dear.
> 
> i promise that i will eventually return to my WIPs. probably sooner rather than later, now that i can't leave my house...

The sunrise over Coppelius is quick and bright. In the space of a few seconds, the landscape is flooded in a gold so vivid you might reach out and grab hold of it. It lights on the slopes of hills and the roofs of buildings, on the scattered fragments of Romulan ships and on the people who move between them, looking for survivors.

So much death. From a broken corner of the grounded Artifact, Hugh watches, and wonders what he could have done to prevent it. Picard, Elnor, Soji, the synths — they’d all been counting on him. He’d failed, and it had come to this.

He turns his head at the sound of footsteps. The noise echoes weirdly in the dead Borg cube, and Hugh shivers at the emptiness. After all these years, being an individual is still...lonely, sometimes.

Seven enters first, with Elnor trailing just behind her shoulder. Each of them is carrying a covered platter, and Elnor wields a glass bottle in the hand that usually holds his sword. They pause in the entrance.

“We brought food,” Seven says, indicating the platter in her hands.

“And wine,” Elnor adds helpfully. The bottle is, of course, a Chateau Picard, though Hugh can’t imagine where they found it.

He looks at them. “What for?”

Seven shrugs. “Picard wanted to get rid of us.”

“Ríos’s EMH diagnosed us with exhaustion,” Elnor explains, “and insisted we take a break. I admit it is a relief to do so. And to see you looking well.”

Hugh has to smile at that. Elnor’s frankness is comforting, and makes him feel less alone. This little picnic was undoubtedly Elnor’s idea.

Elnor steps around Seven and sits cross-legged on the floor near Hugh’s feet, setting his tray and bottle down before him. Seven follows, and gestures for Hugh to join them. His joints complain as he settles onto the floor, but there isn’t much furniture on the Artifact, so he puts up with the discomfort and leans back against the wall with a sigh. “How’s the cleanup going?”

Elnor opens his mouth to answer, but Seven cuts him off. “We’re not here to discuss work,” she says brusquely, with the tilt of an eyebrow. “This is strictly a social visit. Wine?”

The sun climbs higher over the city as they sit, working their way through plates of fruit and pastries, the wine bottle dwindling to empty between them. Two reddish moons linger in the western sky, and in the fields below, teams of synths, xBs, humans, and a few Romulans sort through the wreckage of a terrible battle. Hugh has his back to the window now, all his attention on the two friends here with him — their laughter, their warmth, their quick concern whenever Hugh winces at the pain in his neck. The wound still hasn’t fully healed, but it hardly matters. He’s alive, when he has no real right to be; he’s alive and he has good food and good wine and better company, and there is so much to be glad of in the world.

Elnor catches his eye and smiles, sincere and a little sad, and Hugh knows he is feeling the same things.

Hugh smiles back. _Maybe_ , he thinks, _hope is not so foolish, after all_.


End file.
